overwhelmed and oh, so blessed

There is so much going on. I remember my mother telling me when I was in high school that I was "burning the candle at both ends," but I never really realized what that meant until now.

Trying to move, especially from one state to another, is no fun. Add to that stress the constant demands of a two-month old baby, and it becomes almost impossible even to pack! So, for the first two weeks that we knew we were going to move, very little was done. I think I manged to box up my shoe collection. Thank goodness for two very special people: my dad and my mom's brother, Brad. They drove up on Sunday and planned to stay until Thursday, which was Moving Day. They worked tirelessly, packing boxes and bins, making dumpster runs, and keeping Tim Horton's in business with Dad's morning trip to donut heaven.

All day Sunday, we worked. As we got boxes packed, we hauled them out into the garage and stacked them against the wall. Suddenly I turned around and noticed that Mike was leaning over slightly with his hand on his chest. I asked if he was okay, and he said that he'd been feeling a little dizzy and his heart was racing. We'd been really busy packing, and he'd been carrying a lot of boxes back and forth, so I thought that combined with hunger was making his blood sugar pretty low. I made him eat a turkey wrap and some Baked Lay's, and the rest during lunch seemed to help. After we had been working again for a while, he stood against the wall and slid down, sitting with his back against it. He complained again that he felt dizzy. We figured that he was probably pretty tired, so he went upstairs to take a nap. I told him that he should call his doctor the next day.

At around 9:00am on Monday, she sent him immediately to the ER.

Around noon, I got a text from him. He'd had an abnormal EKG and x-rays.

Around 2:00, I got another. He was being admitted for an overnight observation. I immediately threw on a jacket and grabbed my purse, accepted my dad's offer to watch the baby, and called out instructions over my shoulder as a ran out the door.

Arriving at the hospital, I felt suddenly very strange. I've been in the hospital quite a lot in my recent life. Two months ago I was arriving at St. Anne's to deliver my precious daughter, and not even a full year earlier I had to have an appendectomy at the OSU Medical Center. You could say I'm familiar with hospitals, only this time I wasn't a patient; this time it was like I was looking in from the outside. It's hard to be in the hospital when you're sick, but I think it's much harder when you're there for someone else.

When I got there, he was still in the ER, waiting for a bed to become available elsewhere. People might not know this about Mike, but he rarely gets sick. He maybe takes one or two sick days every year, and for that to happen, he's got to be REALLY sick. So, walking through the sliding glass door to see him wearing a hospital gown, connected to a monitor, IV placed in his arm, and looking quite pale was unnerving. I moved the visitor's chair as close to the bed as I could get it and placed my hand on his arm. He explained that there was something irregular about his heart rate; there was an extra connection making his blood pressure drop, but they weren't really sure exactly what was causing it. I asked how he felt, and he said that he was still having palpitations and feeling light-headed. A technician came in and told us he needed to do an ultrasound of Mike's heart. We watched, hoping we could see what was causing this strangeness, but it looked pretty much exactly like every other ultrasound we'd ever seen. You could have told me I was looking at a fetus for all I could make out on the screen. Oh, I'd probably say, yes, I see the spine, and yes, that must be the tiny nose . . .

I called home to check in, and was told that everything was going well.

We waited for what seemed like days, and were finally taken to Mike's observation room. As soon as we'd gotten there, Dr. McAllister, a generalist, came to explain what the cardiologist had seen. Mike had a Left Branch Bundle Block, which basically means that there was an extra connection between the left atrium and ventricle of his heart. It was causing the electrical current of the heart to skip the direct route it was supposed to take and circumvent the ventricle, which resulted in too much time lapsing between beats. This caused his blood pressure to drop, and his physical symptoms. The cardiologist consulted with an electrocardiologist, who determined that Mike needed surgery to correct the problem.

This is about the time I thought I might need a cardiologist.

Heart surgery? I thought he just needed a snack, and you're telling me he needs heart surgery?

We digested this information between nurses darting in and out of the room to ask health history questions, check his IV, and bring water.

Promising to return with a set of comfortable sweatpants and clothes to eventually go home in, as well as some toiletries, I went home to feed, bathe, and put MJ to bed.

She had a lovely bath, and Brad and I enjoyed watching her splash it up until it was time to eat. I fed her, watching the clock and hoping she would finish quickly and go right to sleep so I could take Mike his bag before it got too late. Of course, she was ready to play instead of sleep. I put her in her cradle while I packed for Mike so that she could watch me, and hopefully get sleepy while she did it. No luck. I set his packed back outside the room, picked her up, and sat on the edge of my bed to sway her to sleep. Suddenly, I heard a gurgle in her throat. I knew it was coming, but I couldn't move fast enough. Before I could even stand, she, I, and my king-sized duvet cover were covered in warm, ricey milk chunks. I almost cried, but instead tiptoed over the puddles on the floor and climbed, baby and all, into the bathtub. I started peeling her wet clothes off and dropped them into the tub behind me. I turned on the faucet and rinsed her, and when she was chunk-free, I set her on the bathmat and started on myself. I didn't have time for a shower, so I just tried to get as much off my skin as possible, and quickly re-dressed both of us. I certainly wasn't going to feed her again, so I rocked her back to sleep, and put her in her cradle. I threw my and her clothes into the washer, and as I walked out the door, begged my dad and Brad to add in the duvet cover.

I got to the hospital as quickly as I could, and set up all of Mike's belongings, putting away his work clothes and helping him into his sweats. The electrocardiologist came in to explain how Mike's surgery would work. They would insert two catheters into his groin, and run them up into his heart. From there, he would do an ablation, cauterizing the extra connection to redirect the errant signal. It would take between 2 and 4 hours, and if all went well, he'd be released after a few hours of observation. We agreed it was the best course to take, and the doctor left to set it up.

A few minutes later, my phone rang. "Kelley," Brad said, "Machaela has awakened, and she is fit to be tied." I could hear the screaming in the background. "I'll be there in a few minutes," I assured him. The hospital is probably an eight minute drive from my house.

Three minutes from the house, stopped at a red light, my phone rang again. "Hey, she's really crying." More screaming in the background. "I'm on the way; I'll literally be home in minutes," I said, and looking both ways, ran the light. I know, I know, tsk, tsk, but really, it was 11:00pm on a Monday night and there was zero traffic. Apparently my baby was screaming her head off. I knew I needed to get there to rescue my dad, if not her. I floored it the rest of the way home, pulled into the driveway, and opened the garage door. I walked into the kitchen, fully prepared for the assault on my ears, and heard nothing. Silence. There, on the couch, were my dad, snuggling a quietly sleeping infant in his arms, and Brad, looking sheepish. "Didn't I tell you?" he asked my dad. "I knew that as soon as Kelley walked in the door, she'd stop crying." The first thing my dad said was: "I'm going to burn all of those swaddle-things." We'd been debating the calming-effects of swaddling a baby over the preceding 24 hours. Exhausted, I carried her up to my room and settled her into her swing, fully swaddled and sleeping soundly.

She slept 10 straight hours.

In the middle of the night, my mom crawled into bed with me. When Mike was sent to the hospital, my dad called her and told her to come, and she did, straight from work, without even packing a bag. She just drove straight to the airport and got on the first flight. Mothers are amazing.

The first thing she said to me was this: "Kelley, is she okay sleeping in that swing thing?" Sigh. Nope. It's actually a torture device. I always let her sleep in torture devices. It makes her tough. What's with all the grief I'm getting about my parenting?

Mike was released the next day, and his surgery was scheduled for Friday. My parents, Uncle Brad, and I spent the next few days in a whirlwind of taping boxes, packing them, running errands, donating old clothes, throwing out junk, and making trips to the dumpster. Thank goodness for help! Mike was told not to do any lifting, so he rested, feeling useless. The movers came on Thursday to load all the big furniture and most of the boxes into the 26-foot truck. We still didn't quite fit everything. Brad left Thursday afternoon with Mike's car. One vehicle down.

Friday morning, dad left with the moving truck. Two vehicles down. This was also the big day. We got up at 5 so that we could be at the hospital by 6am. We were the first people in the lobby that morning. After registering, Mike was led back to be prepped for his surgery. I sat in one of the recliners (what a brilliant idea, Mt. Carmel!!) and alternated reading Malcolm Gladwell with watching the news. I had been told it would take half an hour to get him prepped, and then I could go back and see him before his surgery. I did a lot of reading. The next thing I knew, the very kind, elderly, receptionist, Betty, (who soon became my best friend) was tapping me on the shoulder. "Mrs. Rhodes?" she whispered. I bolted up, not remembering that I was in a recliner, tilted the whole chair forward, tripped over the extended footrest, and launched myself onto the floor. I looked up to see a very surprised Betty stooped over me and several other waiting people staring at my graceful display. Oops. She helped me up without a word, and then my new best friend led me back to the Heart Center to hang out with Mike until he was wheeled away.

Then the waiting. The surgery was supposed to take 2-4 hours. After Mike was wheeled into the OR, I wandered over to Subway, where I sampled one of their ham, egg & cheese english muffins. I added green peppers and onions, and YUM! it was delicious!! Their coffee is also quite excellent, if anyone is wondering. I read a little more Malcolm, and then walked back to the lobby to read some more. I received a lot of great phone calls while I was waiting. My true BFF Kristen called, and helped me feel busy for a long time. I also talked to Mike's grandmother, Nana, his mother, Suzanne, his Uncle Dwight, his sister, Caroline, his brother, Dusty, and my mom. Mike's Aunt Connie also called and left a message. Thank goodness for these angels. Just talking helped pass the time, instead of having to just sit and watch the clock (which I did anyway).

My other best friend (you know, Betty) became my best friend during all the waiting. Every once in a while, she would come out into the lobby and call the name of a waiting family to let them know their loved one was out of surgery. Every time she did this, I literally sat a little straighter, and I think my ears perked up like a puppy's, and my eyebrows shot up on my forehead in the sheer hope that she would call my name. This probably happened eight times during my wait. I became very attuned to Betty's every move. I even got excited once when she got up to get herself a soda from the vending machine. Other times, Betty would receive a call on the phone at her desk, then look over at me and motion to let me know that the sweet nurse taking care of my husband wanted to give me an update. Mostly, the updates were just to let me know that nothing horrible had happened. There wasn't much else she could say.

Eventually, Betty left. I was very sad to see her go. After all, after watching her every move for four and a half hours and bonding over my fall from the recliner, we were very close. Her replacement was there for only five minutes when she called my name and I was sent back to speak to Mike's surgeon, Dr. Patel. He explained that it was the most difficult of these procedures he's ever done. The extra connection in Mike's heart was wrapped around the side, making it very hard to see. He was able to do the ablation, and cauterized the connection in two places. The surgery was a success! At least for now; if the symptoms come back (sometimes they do) before three months pass, he'll have to have the surgery again.

I managed to at least call the family before my cell phone battery died.

After eating a quick sub from my new favorite in-hospital restaurant, I skipped over to Mike's recovery room. I was nervous and excited to finally see him. He looked very pale, but over the next few hours, his color returned and he was discharged!

Over the next few days, Mike rested, and my mom and I took turns with the baby and cleaning the townhouse. We had several people come look at it, but no one has decided to take over our lease yet. Sigh.

Today is Wednesday, and we're Virginians again. It feels kind of weird, because we keep expecting to have to pack our bags and hop on a plane to go back to Ohio. We're staying with my parents until we can find an apartment, so we're waiting for it to stop feeling like a visit. Yesterday, Mike went to CHKD to fill out his new-hire paperwork and get his blood work done. His first official day of work is Friday. Even after having heart surgery, the show must go on, I guess. How blessed we are that he has a job, and that they were understanding about his coming in a day late.

Important order of business: we're doctor shopping. MJ needs a new pediatrician, one with hospital privileges at Sentara Leigh and that takes Optima insurance. I need a new OBGYN, one that's as hip and withit as my previous Columbus OBGYN, whom I dearly loved and now sorely miss. Mike & I both need a family doctor. Suggestions?